She flashed an attractive moue. “No. I’ll just request another bodyguard.”
Rafe smiled. “It’s not going to happen, beautiful. You’re stuck with me for the duration.”
“Bummer.”
“Isn’t it?” he teased. “Go get out of those wet clothes before you get sick and I’ll have to take care of you.”
Simone blinked. “Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Take care of me?”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing now, Simone? Taking care of you?”
The seconds ticked off as they regarded each other like strangers. “Yes, Rafe,” she said quietly, “you’re taking very good care of me.”
She turned and walked away before she blurted out something else. He was taking care of her, but she needed him to take care of something else: her body.
* * *
Simone walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom, her thoughts a jumble of confusion. It was a sixth sense that made her so conscious of Rafe even with a room filled with people. She knew instinctively the exact moment when he was looking at her. Time after time, she’d turned to find his eyes fixed on her. She’d thought it was because he was her bodyguard that he hadn’t wanted her out of his sight, but she realized it wasn’t the case, because they didn’t share a bedroom.
Making her way into her bathroom, she filled the claw-foot bathtub with water, adding a handful of lavender-scented bath crystals under the running water. She opened a drawer for a fire starter and lit candles lining shelves, ledges and the one on the table next to the upholstered chair in rose-pink toile.
She turned to put away the match when she saw the wood on the fireplace grate. Rafe mentioning cooking over an open fire reminded her that she hadn’t taken a bath using only the light from a fire in the fireplace in weeks. It was usually after working nonstop to decorate a room or a tent with wedding flowers that she treated herself to a bubble bath.
Every winter she ordered cords of wood. Whenever she invited her family over for Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Year’s, she used the fireplaces. The flame from the lighted match caught pieces of kindling, and within minutes a fire crackled behind a decorative screen.
Stripping off her clothes, Simone walked on bare feet over to a portable stereo unit on a shelf and pressed a button. The distinctive voice of Sarah Brightman singing a collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber compositions filled the space. Thankfully, she’d remembered to replace the batteries.
She turned off the lights, got into the warm water and closed her eyes. The scent of lavender, the sweet smell of burning wood and the clear voice of Sarah singing “Another Suitcase In Another Hall,” from Evita lulled her into a state of total relaxation.
* * *
Rafe had just emerged from the shower closet when everything went black. He cursed under his breath. Their luck had run out. He managed to make his way back to his bedroom, and stubbed his toe not once but twice on furniture before he was able to locate the small flashlight that was a part of his official equipment.
He pulled on a pair of shorts, then left to check on Simone. She’d mentioned once that she wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she didn’t do well during the winter months because of seasonal depression. Usually she didn’t leave the house unless she turned on lamps.
Training the beam of light on the floor, he walked into her bedroom, stopping abruptly when he heard music. His brow furrowed. How could she play the radio without electrical power? She wasn’t in the bedroom, so he knew she had to be in the bathroom. Why, he wondered, hadn’t she known the lights were out?
He entered the bathroom, stopping abruptly when he saw her sitting in the bathtub. The light from dozens of candles and the flickering fire behind a decorative screen made her look as if she’d been painted in layers of gold.
The hauntingly beautiful voice of Sarah Brightman drowned out his soft gasp when Simone sat up straighter, giving him a clear view of her full breasts. The flesh between his legs betrayed him and he gasped again, this time loud enough for Simone to know he was there.
Simone stared at the large figure filling out the doorway. “What do you want?” Her voice was low, breathless.
“The power just went out.”
Her eyes widened like silver dollars. “Please wait inside the bedroom for me.”
She hadn’t realized the loss of electricity because of the candles and the battery-powered CD player. Waiting until Rafe left, Simone got out of the bathtub and picked up a towel on a low stool beside the tub.
Simone tried to stop her hands from shaking as she blotted the moisture dotting her body. The look on Rafe’s face when she realized he was watching her was imprinted on her brain. It’d been a combination of shock and awe. Tucking the ends of the towels between her breasts, she walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, encountering complete silence and darkness.
“Rafe? Where are you?”
“I’m right here,” he said, his warm breath sweeping over the side of her face.
As if pulled by an invisible wire, Simone curved into the contours of his hard body, moaning softly when he cradled her face in his hands and brushed a kiss over her parted lips, the touch as feathery as the brush of a butterfly’s wings.
She wanted him to quell the pulsing between her legs, to end her self-imposed eight-year celibacy, and she needed to lie with Raphael Madison to remind herself that she was a woman.
Rafe felt the tiny tremors shaking Simone’s body. “Do I frighten you?”
“No.”
His mouth moved to the area below her ear. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure,” she whispered.
His hands went from her face to the towel and seconds later it pooled around Simone’s feet. He wanted to see her—all of her, but nature had taken that option from him. What he didn’t want to do was turn on the flashlight.
“Simone?”
“What is it, Rafe?”
“I want you—”
Her hand over his mouth cut off his request. Simone didn’t know if he was going to admit to wanting her, but the truth was she wanted him—badly. “I want you to make love to me.”
“Do you know what you’re asking?”
“I know exactly what I’m asking, Raphael Madison. Wasn’t it you who said you hope that I’ll come to want you as much you want me? Well, that time has come. I want you—now.”
“You know this is going to change everything between us, Simone.”
Simone gritted her teeth. As long as she lived, she didn’t think she would ever understand what made a man who he was. Rafe had talked about getting her into bed, but now he was balking. “Nothing’s going to change. I’m still a government witness and you’re a U.S. marshal assigned to protect me.”
Rafe wanted to tell Simone she was wrong. When he made love to her, he wouldn’t be a marshal but a man who’d found himself in too deep. A man who’d found himself bewitched by a slip of a woman with a sharp tongue, quick temper and an inherent sexiness that she either wasn’t aware of or chose to ignore.
She may have been his witness, but she was also something more—much more. If Micah Sanborn knew Tessa Whitfield was that special woman the moment he met her, then it was the same with Raphael Madison. Living with Simone Whitfield for five days was akin to six months of Saturday night dates. They’d spent every waking hour together, and when he awoke it was her he thought of, sought out.
“We’ll have to sleep in my bed, unless you happen to have condoms on hand that haven’t expired.”
Simone pressed a kiss over his heart. “It will have to be your bed.”
Reaching into a pocket of his shorts, he handed Simone the flashlight. “Direct the beam on the floor.”
That said, he swept her up in his arms and headed out of her bedroom, down the hallway and into his. Outside the house, the storm intensified as rain lashed the windows with increasing wind gusts. It was storming outside and inside.
Rafe placed Simone on the mattress, his bo
dy following hers down. This night was to be theirs, and he wanted their coming together etched in their memories—forever. “Don’t run away, sweetheart. I’ll be right back,” he whispered near her ear.
“Where am I going to go butt-naked? And, don’t forget, in the dark.”
Rafe kissed her moist, parted lips. “I’ll find you.”
Easing the flashlight from her hand, he went over to a drawer in the dresser and took out a condom from a stash he carried in the case with his grooming supplies. He returned to the bed, moving over Simone. Flicking off the flashlight, he buried his face in her soft, scented hair, breathing a kiss on the fragrant curls. His mouth moved slowly to the side of her neck, pressing a kiss to the velvety flesh. He moved lower, down to her throat, tasting the sweetness of her skin. Even in the dark, she was a visual feast. He continued his oral exploration when his mouth closed over her breast, suckling until the areola pebbled like tiny seeds.
The sounds coming from Simone’s throat was Rafe’s undoing. Blood rushed to the area between his thighs, hardening his sex so quickly that it left him lightheaded. He had to slow down or it would be over before it actually began. Taking deep breaths, he flicked his tongue over her nipples, worshipping the flesh covering her perfectly formed full breasts.
Rafe loved her smell, the way she tasted, and he knew that he was falling in love with Simone Whitfield—a woman he’d been ordered to protect with his life.
Simone felt as if she were drowning in erotic sensations that heated the blood coursing through her veins, taking her to a place where she’d never been. She had only one man with whom to compare Rafe’s lovemaking, and there was no comparison. This was no frantic coupling, but a slow, measured seduction that had her craving his caress, his kiss.
She arched off the mattress when his hand moved up her thighs and covered the mound concealing her sex. Everywhere he touched her, he ignited a burning passion that grew hotter and hotter until she found herself gasping in the sweetest agony.
The barrier she’d erected after she’d ended her marriage was swept away with the onslaught of desire that weakened her defenses, and she opened her heart to welcome the pleasure that’d eluded her for years.
Rafe wanted to kiss and taste every inch of Simone’s fragrant body, but wasn’t certain whether she’d experienced a full range of lovemaking. She may have had sexual intercourse, but he wondered if she’d ever been made love to. And that’s what he wanted to do—make love to her.
His touch and kisses became bolder as his tongue dipped into the indentation of her belly button. Attuned to the changes in her breathing, the slightest movement of her body, he took his time giving and receiving pleasure. Her hands went to his hair when he buried his face between her legs to inhale her distinctive feminine warmth and scent.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as her hips lifted. “Easy, baby,” he crooned softly. “Let me make you feel good.”
Simone tried to sit up, but the hand splayed over her belly stopped her. The intense pulsing that she’d experienced in the car had returned. This time it was stronger. “Rafe!” she screamed, not recognizing her own voice.
“Relax, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”
How was she going to relax when she felt as if she were coming out of her skin? And how was she going to relax with his head between her thighs? This was a lovemaking that was totally foreign to her.
Rafe applied the slightest pressure to keep Simone from closing her legs and pushed his face against the down as his tongue searched the opening he sought. A single sob escaped Simone before it dissolved in hoarse gasps that’d become music to his ears. He was relentless, his tongue flicking over the swollen bud of flesh until it swelled to twice its size. Her gasps were replaced by a low keening that had the hair standing up on the back of his neck.
He lessened his assault on her flesh, reaching for the foil packet and opening it. It took only seconds to slip the latex over his tumescence. Moving up Simone’s moist, trembling body, Rafe positioned his erection at the entrance to her femininity.
“It’s all right, darling.” She’d stiffened when he pushed against her long-celibate flesh. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe,” he crooned over and over, hoping to get Simone to relax enough for him to penetrate her.
Simone felt Rafe’s hardness, the increasing pressure, as he eased his sex into her body, which flamed with fire one minute and trembled uncontrollably from cold the next. The hot and cold sensations continued until the heat won and love flowed through her like thick, warm, sweet honey. Her arms went around his back, holding him where they’d become heart to heart, flesh to flesh and soul to soul. Establishing a rhythm as if they’d choreographed their dance of desire, she discovered a pleasure that sent shivers of delight up and down her spine. Rafe had promised to make her feel good, and she did.
Rafe recognized the instant the dormant sexuality of Simone’s body had been awakened, and as her passion spiraled, so did his. His love and desire to pleasure her took precedence over who he was and everything that had occurred in his life. The only thing that mattered was the woman who’d become one with him.
Everything in the world ceased to exist as he quickened his movements. Anchoring his palms under Simone’s hips, he pulled her closer. “Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby,” he chanted over and over until it became a litany.
Simone felt the contractions. They began slowly, increasing and growing stronger until she was mindless with an ecstasy that took her beyond everything she’d ever known. She screamed! Once, twice, then lost count as they kept coming. She dissolved into an abyss of satisfaction that swallowed her whole. She was too caught up in her own whirling sensations of fulfillment to register the low growl exploding from Rafe’s constricted throat as he, too, climaxed. They lay together, savoring the feeling that made them one.
Simone moaned in protest when Rafe withdrew from her. Turning over on her side, she lay drowning in a maelstrom of lingering passion that lulled her into a sated, dreamless sleep. She never knew when Rafe left the bed to discard the condom, extinguish the candles in her bathroom and check on the embers in the fireplace. She was sleeping deeply when he returned to the bed, pulled her against his body and joined her in a slumber that was a long time coming.
CHAPTER 12
Simone opened her eyes, her breathing faltering. She wasn’t in her bed, and the slight ache between her legs and the hard body pressed to her back silently communicated she wasn’t the same woman who’d awoken the day before.
“Good morning, baby.”
“How did you know I was awake?” she asked, because she hadn’t moved.
Rafe pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Your breathing changed.”
She smiled. “How long have you been awake?”
Rising on an elbow, Rafe leaned over and pulled a wealth of curls off her cheek. “Awake long enough to eyeball my girlfriend’s goodies.”
Her face flamed. She sat up and clutched the sheet to her chest. “I can’t believe I’m sleeping with a pervert.”
The sunlight coming in through the windows slanted over Rafe’s face. Humor and tenderness softened his eyes. “Believe it, darling,” he teased. Shifting slightly, he pulled her back down, one arm going around her waist. “You’ve turned me into a pervert.”
“Why me, Rafe?”
“Why not you? You’re smart and sexy—a most winning combination.”
She smiled. “I thought men don’t want smart.”
“What do you think they want?”
“The sex is enough.”
“Not for me,” Rafe countered. He buried his face in her hair. “You can’t talk to sexy once you finish making love. And what good is sexy once you leave the bed?”
“Maybe that’s enough for most men.”
“It’s not enough for me, Simone. Sex may or may not play an integral part in a relationship, but it shouldn’t be the glue that cements the relationship. There has to be respect and, above all, trust. Even if you have the most mind-bl
owing, explosive sex, it’s nothing without the respect and trust.”
“What about love, Rafe?”
“Anyone can say that they love someone, but do they really mean it? Some of the most amazing things are blurted out in the throes of passion.”
“Do you include yourself in that mix?”
A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Yes, I do.”
Simone shifted into a more comfortable position. “Are you telling me now that I’m not your baby? Because that’s what you were chanting in your throes of passion.”
The seconds ticked off and the only audible sound in the room came from their measured breathing. “You’re my baby in and out of bed, Simone.”
Simone wanted to ask Rafe to define what it meant to be his baby. She was aware that it was a term of endearment similar to darling. “If I’m going to be your baby, then you have to be my darling.”
Rafe pressed a kiss to her hair. “Baby had better get out of bed while she still can, because darling is having a problem with a certain part of his body.”
Glancing at her lover over her shoulder, Simone stared at him under lowered lids. “What kind of problem?”
“Right now it has a mind of its own.”
“What is darling saying, darling?”
“It says that he wants baby.”
Turning over, Simone stared at the man who’d made the most exquisite love to her that she’d ever known. “I’m going to have to get up even though I’d love to linger in bed with you.”
Rafe saw the barely perceptible expression of discomfort when Simone had turned to face him. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just a little sore from using muscles I didn’t know I had.”
He didn’t know how, but Rafe knew Simone wasn’t being completely truthful with him. Not only was she small, but also very tight. But it stood to reason because she hadn’t had sex in eight years. “We don’t have to make love again until you’re ready.”
A slight frown appeared between her eyes. “It’s not about not being—”
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